


The Man in Women's Clothing Affair

by xisney



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:27:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1467805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xisney/pseuds/xisney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya comes back from a job distraught after he wears women’s clothing to aid in his spy work. Napoleon works to rebuild his ego.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man in Women's Clothing Affair

Napoleon tossed his suit jacket over Illya’s stiff shoulders as he guided his fellow agent into the men’s room. Illya stumbled towards the sinks as he said, “Napoleon, I have never been so humiliated in my life.”

Napoleon locked the bathroom door behind them as Illya paced back and forth in front of the stalls. He continued, “Did you see the way they looked at me? They were leering! Perhaps I would expect no less from you, but the others should have more respect than that.”

Offering a sympathetic smile, Napoleon lifted Illya so he could sit on the edge of a sink. Illya frowned as he looked at his reflection. Napoleon’s grey suit jacket covered a short, baby blue dress, white knee-high boots with spike heels that made his ankles throb, and a stomach-length, board-straight wig that would be reminiscent of the model Ramona if it was black instead of platinum blonde. His plastered on black eyelashes pulled against his eyelids when he blinked, and he felt the foundation tightening against his cheeks as he frowned.

“Napoleon, I am beginning to loathe these inane assignments. Whatever happened to a stake-out where I could just slather mud on my face and speak with another accent? These costumes are madly intricate and incredibly humiliating.”

“And I miss the days when I could call myself Napoleon Solo and still pretend to be someone else,” Napoleon replied.

Illya peered at Napoleon, finding his hazel eyes staring intently at him. Illya hoped the foundation covered the blood rushing to his cheeks. Illya mumbled, “Napoleon, please don’t tell me you find me appealing like this too.”

Napoleon heard the bathroom’s door handle rattle, and he raised his voice to say, “Occupied!”

The door handle stopped moving, and Napoleon frowned as he took off Illya’s wig. “Your forehead is all sweaty,” Napoleon said as he wiped Illya’s forehead with his shirtsleeve. Napoleon examined the faint beige mark of foundation that would stain his shirt.

“It’s sweltering under that wig,” Illya said, sighing. “I suppose it is a good thing they chose a sleeveless dress.”

Illya smiled as he felt Napoleon run a hand through his short, blond hair before smoothing it back out again. Napoleon tossed the wig on the floor and then turned on the sink beside the one Illya sat on. Illya felt his face frowning again as he said, “Do you suppose there’s a reason they chose me to pretend to be a woman? Your face is certainly more recognizable than my own.”

“We have very few competent female agents,” Napoleon said. “At least you got to spend the day with April. I had to listen to Mark Slate blather on.”

Napoleon approached Illya with a wet paper towel and began to wipe one of his eyelids. Illya continued, “But why me instead of Slate?”

He felt Napoleon peel off his fake eyelashes. Napoleon said, “Keep your eyes closed. I want to make sure I get all of this off.”

Illya kept his eyes closed and felt the damp paper towel rubbing against his eyelids. His raging anger quickly burned into ashes of self-pity. He shivered as he felt Napoleon’s lips brush up against his eyelids. Napoleon murmured gently, “Eye make-up is all off.”

When Illya opened his eyes and smiled, he found Napoleon back at the sink, getting a new paper towel wet. To keep himself from sliding into his own sink, Illya tried to reposition himself more comfortably on the edge. But his whole body felt as if it had been slid into a tight, empty beer bottle and shaken.

Napoleon began to wipe the foundation off his cheeks. Illya stared at the floor as he said, “Napoleon, do you know why they’d pick me instead of Slate?”

“You’re more qualified than Slate,” Napoleon said. He cupped one side of Illya’s face in his hand as he roughly wiped the other cheek. Illya winced; it felt like Napoleon was scraping the foundation off his cheeks with a dull knife. Napoleon continued with his features stiff, “You’re more competent than Slate, and you’re more convincing than Slate. Illya, maybe you just need to learn to say ‘No’ sometimes.”

Illya pushed Napoleon off of him, finding a scowl growing on his face. “I really like my job, Napoleon,” he said.

Napoleon tossed the paper towel in the garbage and calmly replied, “I didn’t say otherwise.”

Illya watched Napoleon wet another paper towel in the sink. He rubbed his raw cheek, watching Napoleon approach him again. Napoleon swatted away Illya’s hand to wipe off more of the foundation. Napoleon cupped Illya’s cheek in his hand to gently rub it with his thumb, and Illya exhaled softly. Napoleon smiled weakly, and Illya offered a smile back of the same strength.

Tossing away the paper towel, Napoleon gently kissed each of Illya’s newly cleaned cheeks. Illya’s smile grew, and Napoleon walked away to wet another paper towel. Illya said, “I think this lipstick needs to be wiped off.”

Napoleon chuckled and replied, “Your chin first, Illya.”

Illya tried to watch Napoleon’s face as he scrubbed Illya’s chin. His features stayed serious, even when he pressed his lips softly against Illya’s chin. Illya parted his lips as Napoleon wiped them off, and Illya could taste the chalky foundation from his chin on the paper towel. Napoleon threw the paper towel behind him and quickly grabbed the back of Illya’s head to pull him forward towards his lips.

Illya felt his chest tighten as Napoleon’s lips brushed against his own, and his hands weakly grasped the front of Napoleon’s shirt as Napoleon tilted his head upwards to kiss him deeper. Napoleon pressed his tongue between Illya’s lips, and Illya flicked his tongue against Napoleon’s, feeling his smile part his lips more.

Napoleon tensed against Illya as the door handle to the men’s room rattled again. Napoleon pulled away to shout another, “Occupied!” with a frown. But a smile appeared when he asked, “Did they put any on your neck?”

“No,” Illya said.

Napoleon’s eyes scanned Illya’s neck and said, “Well then, it’s all yours.”

Quickly gripping the back of Illya’s head again, Napoleon tilted Illya’s head to expose his neck. Illya grasped Napoleon’s back, spreading his legs so Napoleon could press against him as he kissed the spot where Illya’s jaw and neck met. Illya felt his breaths quicken as Napoleon kissed down his neck, and felt his toes curl in his tight boots. Part of him feared that Napoleon’s sudden romance – they hardly ever snuck off to exchange kisses in the office – was because of his disguise and not to comfort him.

Illya felt Napoleon rip part of the collar on the dress to kiss where his neck and shoulder met. Illya wrapped his legs around Napoleon’s to pull him closer, and he shivered as he felt Napoleon’s warm breath against him. He nuzzled Napoleon’s hair as his mind whirled. He worried if he said something about his fears, Napoleon might leave him, but if Napoleon actually preferred him as a woman then Illya wasn’t sure he even wanted Napoleon to stay.

“Napoleon,” Illya said, releasing him to pull Napoleon’s jacket firmly around his shoulders. “May I ask you something?”

Napoleon wrapped his arms loosely around Illya and smiled. He nuzzled Illya and murmured against his lips, “I love you just as you are.”

Illya smirked and replied, “Do you mean just as I am right now? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Napoleon, but I am in a dress.”

Napoleon laughed softly and kissed Illya’s jaw. His lips dipped back against Illya’s neck as he said, “I mean as you normally are – with your masculinity intact. That’s why I’m eager to get you out of this ridiculous disguise.”

“You seem more eager to kiss me.”

Napoleon pulled back away from Illya to stare into his blue eyes. Illya found it hard to stare back into Napoleon’s hazel ones, and he found his cheeks burning fiercely and his eyes glancing at the floor. Napoleon replied, “Only because you seemed to need it.”

The corners of Illya’s lips turned upwards, and he said, “Perhaps I did, but I still could use more reassurance with the masculinity issue.”

Napoleon dropped to his knees in front of Illya. He said, “Then I will continue disassembling your disguise.” He rubbed the inside of Illya’s thighs causing Illya to squirm in response. Napoleon paused and added, “Are you wearing pantyhose?”

Illya fet his muscles tighten. He tried to pull his dress down as he said, “Only because they said I wouldn’t have to shave if I did!”

Napoleon laughed and said, “Well I’m glad you saved your leg hair.” He began to unzip one of Illya’s boots and he said, “Shoes first, then pantyhose.”

Illya nodded, smiling softly as Napoleon pulled off his boot. He leaned back carefully (gripping the edges of the sink to keep himself steady) as Napoleon rubbed his ankle and then the sole of his foot. He tried not to look at his feet and the way the nylons made his toes look webbed. Illya let out a soft sigh and felt his body finally relax as Napoleon moved to the other foot to unzip the boot, pull it off, and then gently (albeit briefly) massage Illya’s foot and ankle.

On his knees, Napoleon hobbled closer to Illya and placed his hands on Illya’s thighs. He gently traced his hands up Illya’s dress, feeling for the elastic band where the pantyhose started. Upon finding the edge, Illya raised his body up by his hands, and Napoleon slid the pantyhose off Illya’s rear. Illya set himself back down as Napoleon pulled it off his legs. Napoleon ran his fingers through Illya’s dusty blond leg hair, and he kissed Illya’s ankles as he freed Illya from the pantyhose completely.

Illya squirmed as Napoleon ran his hands back up the inside of his legs, kissing the highest part of his thighs that the short dress exposed. Napoleon gently pulled Illya’s dress up to Illya’s waist, and he rubbed the fabric of Illya’s white boxers. “Now these look familiar,” Napoleon purred.

Illya rubbed Napoleon’s back as Napoleon gently felt his cock through his boxers. Illya shifted and said, “Don’t you have something else to do first?”

Napoleon sighed to feign frustration, but Illya saw a slight smirk on his lips. He stood up, causing Illya’s eyes to notice Napoleon’s own excitement. Illya hooked his fingers through Napoleon’s belt loops to pull him closer, and he nuzzled into Napoleon’s chest as Napoleon slid his jacket off of Illya’s shoulders. He folded his jacket over his arm. “Arms up,” Napoleon said.

Illya put his arms up as Napoleon pulled his dress over his head. He shivered as Napoleon kissed up his chest, nuzzling into his chest hair while sliding his hands up his boxers. Illya tossed the dress on the floor and draped his arms around Napoleon’s neck. Napoleon’s long fingers fondled Illya’s erection as he kissed Illya’s nipple. Illya closed his eyes and slid forward on the sink, focussing of the feeling of Napoleon against him.

The sound of someone rattling the door handle made Napoleon release Illya’s erection. Napoleon raised his voice again to yell, “Occupied!”

Napoleon waited for the door handle to stop rattling before smiling again at Illya, his eyebrows raised. He nuzzled Illya, their lips connecting for a quick kiss. Napoleon ran his fingers along Illya’s thighs again and purred, “Are you feeling more like yourself?”

Illya nodded, guiding Napoleon’s head back to his own. Illya kissed Napoleon, and Napoleon broke it to murmur, “Shall I continue?” against his lips.

Illya replied, “Perhaps you’ll let me,” he rubbed his hands against Napoleon’s chest, “prove my masculinity to you.”

Chuckling, Napoleon kissed Illya again. He purred, “I can’t wait.”

Illya slid off the sink and reached into Napoleon’s pants’ pocket. He said, “Do you have anything to help?”

Napoleon put his hand inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a packet of lubricant. He raised his eyebrows as he smiled and said, “Do you mean this?”

Illya rolled his eyes and grasped Napoleon’s erection through his pants’ pocket. Napoleon’s face tightened as Illya gave him a friendly jerk and said, “No, I meant this.”

Illya pulled Napoleon towards him with his other hand, kissing his neck as he fondled Napoleon through his pocket. With short breaths, Napoleon said, “I’ll, um, put the jacket on the sink then.”

Leaning into Illya, Napoleon reached over to lay his jacket across the sink. Illya’s free hand grasped Napoleon’s to pry the packet out lube out of his hand. Napoleon tried to keep his fist closed, even when Illya moved his hand quicker against Napoleon’s cock. It was only when Illya let his lips meet Napoleon’s that Napoleon surrendered the packet.

Napoleon tightly grasped Illya’s ass and hair to pull his partner tightly against him, parting Illya’s lips with his tongue. Illya felt himself throbbing against Napoleon’s body and slid his tongue back against Napoleon’s. He released Napoleon’s erection to unbutton the front of his pants. Napoleon pulled away only to kiss him deeper, prying Illya’s mouth open with his own. Illya felt his body bending against Napoleon’s with Napoleon squeezing Illya’s ass.

Illya pulled Napoleon’s pants down across his hips and found Napoleon’s erection pressing against his pelvis through his boxers. The door handle rattled again, and Napoleon pulled his head away from Illya’s to firmly say, “Occupied!”

Taking advantage of the moment, Illya grasped Napoleon’s thighs and turned him around. Napoleon tried to turn himself back around, but Illya grabbed one of Napoleon’s arms and bent it against Napoleon’s back as he pinned him against the bathroom wall. Napoleon squirmed against Illya, and Illya could see Napoleon’s eyes searching for a quip. Illya leaned against Napoleon and kissed the back of his neck. He leaned against Napoleon and released his arm, hoping his chest would help keep Napoleon’s arm pinned in pace.

Illya lowered his boxers to free his erection. He ripped open the lube packet and squeezed a fair amount onto two of his fingers. Lowering Napoleon’s boxers, he pressed a finger into his ass and smiled when Napoleon arched against him. He squeezed the rest of the packet onto his erection and slathered it as his finger gently pumped in and out of Napoleon’s ass to spread the lube around. Napoleon’s breathing quickened as Illya slid the second finger into him. He felt himself throb as he watched Napoleon close his eyes and bite his bottom lip, and he worked his fingers around the edges of Napoleon’s opening to gently stretch him.

Illya felt Napoleon tighten against his fingers, and he moved them quicker inside of him while pressing them back against him. He lanced his erection against Napoleon’s thigh and gripped his hip with his free hand. “Ready?” Illya asked.

Napoleon opened his eyes slightly and nodded. Illya pulled out his fingers and pressed the head of his erection into Napoleon. His other hand grabbed Napoleon’s other hip to pull him back onto his erection, and Napoleon freed his arm to press both of his hands against the wall. “I want to feel,” Napoleon cleared his throat and continued, “all of you.”

Illya smiled and kissed Napoleon’s jaw as he thrusted deeper into him. He pulled nearly out of Napoleon and rubbed his partner’s thighs as he murmured, “You will.”

Illya started moving slowly in and out of Napoleon, relishing in the feeling of Napoleon’s shirt against his chest. He felt Napoleon tighten around his cock as he started hitting deeper inside of him, so he kissed Napoleon’s neck and hovered, teasing Napoleon’s hips with his fingers as he waited for him to relax around him. He heard Napoleon’s heavy breaths grow quick and sharpen when he slid deeper, and his eyes rolled back when Napoleon roughly pressed back against him.

Nearly pulling out, Illya quickly pumped in and out of Napoleon’s ass, teasing the area he already covered. He grasped Napoleon’s chest with one hand, kissing his neck as he thrusted in and out of him. Napoleon let out a soft, sharp gasp as Illya hit deeper, and Napoleon pressed back against him to try to hurry along the process.

Illya’s own breaths grew quick as he felt his pelvis brushing up against Napoleon’s ass. He edged deeper and deeper into him slowly, tightening his grip on Napoleon and gritting his teeth. He grinded up against Napoleon as he hit as deep as he could, and he felt Napoleon squirm against him, biting his lip to keep from groaning. He pulled back only slightly to thrust into him again, grinding against Napoleon’s ass again. Illya kissed his partner’s neck, running his hands along Napoleon’s clothed body to feel the way it arched against his own.

The door handle rattled and when Napoleon said, “Completely occupied!” his voice cracked. The door handle stopped moving and Napoleon gasped, “What’s wrong with the staff’s bladders? I just want a few minutes of -” he gasped as Illya pulled back to thrust against him “- of privacy.”

Illya simply kissed Napoleon’s neck again. He nearly pulled out of Napoleon to slam back into him. Napoleon started to groan, but it was cut off when he bit his lip. Illya pulled back and repeated the process, pulling Napoleon against him by his hips. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking in a quick breath of air to keep from moaning.

Napoleon gasped, “Illya?”

Illya made a rough thrust into him in response, watching the way Napoleon’s mouth opened but nothing came out of it. Illya pulled back softly, pumping in and out of him shallowly as he kissed Napoleon’s neck. Napoleon asked, “Illya, would you mind, er, giving me a hand up front?”

Illya purred in response, “A real man would give himself a hand.”

“That may be so,” Napoleon replied, gasping, “but I never said I was a real man.”

Illya chuckled and ran his hand along Napoleon’s shaft, feeling his slick essence already spilling. Illya began pumping deeper into Napoleon again, and Napoleon pressed back against him roughly. Illya clutched Napoleon’s shirt as he jerked him off in time with the quick rhythms of his deep thrusts. Quiet groans slid into both men’s breaths, and Illya felt his legs begin to weaken as he started to spill inside of Napoleon. But Illya stayed grinding up against him, hitting as deep as he could with every thrust. Napoleon tiled his head downward so he could brush his nose against Illya’s, and Illya felt his hot breath mingle with his own.

Napoleon gasped as he came onto the bathroom wall. Illya grasped both of Napoleon’s hips and dug his nails in to slam into him again and again. He gritted his teeth and pulled out as he came onto Napoleon’s ass and the tail of Napoleon’s shirt. Napoleon touched Illya’s chin to lead their mouths together.

Napoleon’s kiss was soft, and he traced his fingers along Illya’s face. Illya pulled up his boxers and lightly kissed Napoleon back, Napoleon murmured against Illya’s lips, “Don’t worry about the shirt. I’ll just tuck it into my pants and no one will be the wiser.”

Illya pried his eyes away from Napoleon’s to spot his suit jacket on the sink. Napoleon tried to kiss Illya’s lips again, but Illya offered little in response. He reached out to grab his partner’s suit jacket and slid it on.

Illya pulled away from Napoleon and closed the jacket with his hand. He walked to the bathroom door and unlocked it. With his hand on the handle, Illya said, “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. Solo, I have work to do.”

And Illya strutted out of the bathroom with his head held high and a smirk on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> _originally posted on xisney.net_


End file.
